‘I was sorry no one else could be with Arthur, but being there, I could not leave him.’
‘And your mother tells me you are going back again.’
‘Yes, to stand godfather.’
‘To the son and heir, as they called him in the paper. I gave Arthur credit for better taste; I suppose it was done by some of her connections?’
‘I was that connection,’ said John.
‘Oh! I suppose you know what expectations you will raise?’
John making no answer, she grew more angry. ‘This one, at least, is never likely to be heir, from what I hear; it is only surprising that it is still alive.’
How Theodora hung upon the answer, her very throat aching with anxiety, but hardening her face because John looked towards her.
‘We were very much afraid for him at first,’ he said, ‘but they now think there is no reason he should not do well. He began to improve from the time she could attend to him.’
A deep sigh from his mother startled John, and recalled the grief of his childhood—the loss of two young sisters who had died during her absence on the continent. He crossed over and stood near her, between her and his aunt, who, in agitated haste to change the conversation, called out to ask her about some club-book. For once she did not attend; and while Theodora came forward and answered Mrs. Nesbit, she tremulously asked John if he had seen the child.